One should, I suppose, take note that today is so-called "Super Bowl Sunday." And we've pretentiously arrived at Super Bowl XLV. (And probably at last sixty percent of Americans do not know what that means because they cannot read Roman numerals.) No matter, because that is going to fit in with my observations today. I will contend that there is nothing more American, indeed, quintessentially American than the Super Bowl. It's a meaningless sports contest, exhibited at the cost of hundreds of millions (who knows? might be billions) of dollars, hyped into transcendent significance by an ever-salivating media, always anxious to fall at the feet of sports heroes and bloviate endlessly about something that means nothing. And this year, the game is being held in a cathedral of American consumerism: the "Jerry Dome"* in Arlington, Texas. It's where the Cowboys play football, and it cost $1.2 billion to build. It's appropriate for this bacchanalia for the rich. Who, as you might have guessed, are fawn-fodder for the TV cameras when they're not showing commercials that cost sponsors about a zillion dollars a minute.
So Super Bowl is perfect. An artificially hyped event which is beyond the reach of ordinary Americans to even think about attending. A showcase for glitter, glamor, and money . . . lots and lots of money. Tons of money. That, after all, is what it's all about. The Super Bowl is exactly who we are.
*After Jerry Jones the owner of the Dallas Cowboys NFL franchise and builder of the stadium.